“The Civil War and Reconstruction,” a New MOOC by Pulitzer-Prize Winning Historian Eric Foner

It end­ed in ear­ly April 149 years ago. But it begins again on Wednes­day. Colum­bia University’s “The Civ­il War and Recon­struc­tion,” the lat­est sal­vo in the MOOC wars, opens Wednes­day, Sep­tem­ber 17, for free to the world – a 27-week series of three cours­es on the non­prof­it edX plat­form taught by Eric Fon­er, the university’s Pulitzer-Prize win­ning his­to­ry pro­fes­sor and one of the world’s lead­ing experts on 19th-cen­tu­ry Amer­i­ca. You can enroll for free here.

“If you want to know where the world you’re liv­ing in today comes from,” Fon­er says in the series pro­mo­tion­al trail­er,  “you need to know about the Civ­il War era.“  Head­line issues of the moment – black-white race rela­tions first among them, but also more gen­er­al issues of equal jus­tice under law, the pow­er and prop­er role of gov­ern­ment, and how law­mak­ers should deal with extrem­ism, ter­ror, and vio­lence – all find roots in this con­flict and its after­math, a four-year war that saw approx­i­mate­ly 700,000 Amer­i­cans killed, and scores more injured, at the hands of their coun­try­men.

Foner’s gen­er­al his­to­ry books on the sub­ject have sold thou­sands of copies – his new work on the under­ground rail­road pub­lish­es in Jan­u­ary – and he’s the author of the lead­ing Amer­i­can his­to­ry text­book taught in U.S. high schools.  He’s crossed over from acad­eme into main­stream media in oth­er ways – with appear­ances on The Dai­ly Show with John Stew­art, The Col­bert Report, The Char­lie Rose Show, Bill Moyers’s Jour­nal, and more.

Columbia’s effort in free his­to­ry edu­ca­tion on screen dates back decades – as Fon­er makes clear in the pro­mo video. Columbia’s his­to­ry pro­fes­sors Richard Hof­s­tadter and James Patrick Shen­ton reached thou­sands of peo­ple in their books and lec­tures, with Shen­ton even teach­ing a 76-part sur­vey course on WNET Pub­lic Tele­vi­sion called “The Rise of the Amer­i­can Nation” – which pre­miered in 1963!  But many of the great lec­tur­ers from this uni­ver­si­ty – lit­er­ary crit­ics and schol­ars Jacques Barzun and Lionel Trilling, art his­to­ri­an Mey­er Shapiro, and oth­ers – were nev­er filmed sys­tem­at­i­cal­ly, and Fon­er, who will for­mal­ly retire from teach­ing in a few years, was deter­mined to ensure his cours­es were record­ed, well-pro­duced, and pre­served for pos­ter­i­ty – and avail­able as edu­ca­tion­al resources to all.

The series, gen­er­ous­ly sup­port­ed by Columbia’s provost, his­to­ri­an John Coatsworth, is pro­duced by the Colum­bia Cen­ter for New Media Teach­ing and Learn­ing (CCNMTL), coin­ci­den­tal­ly cel­e­brat­ing its 15th anniver­sary this year. It’s the university’s first set of online cours­es on edX, after more than a dozen MOOCs on Cours­era – and with more to come on both.  The course promis­es some tan­ta­liz­ing new per­spec­tives on the world then and now – as the two high­lights reels show above.

Come & enlist – oops! — that is, enroll – today!

Peter B. Kauf­man works at the Colum­bia Cen­ter for New Media Teach­ing and Learn­ing and is Exec­u­tive Pro­duc­er of Intel­li­gent Tele­vi­sion and YouTube’s Intel­li­gent Chan­nel

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of the World in 46 Lec­tures From Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty

Down­load 78 Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es: From Ancient Greece to The Mod­ern World

What Books Do Writ­ers Teach?: Zadie Smith and Gary Shteyngart’s Syl­labi from Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty

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The Historic LSD Debate at MIT: Timothy Leary v. Professor Jerome Lettvin (1967)

On May 3, 1967, Dr. Tim­o­thy Leary, that high priest of hal­lu­cino­gens, faced off in a debate with MIT pro­fes­sor Dr. Jerome Lettvin about LSD in MIT’s Kres­ge Audi­to­ri­um. Leary spent the debate in the lotus posi­tion, dressed in a white gown, beads and bare feet. The very pic­ture of a counter cul­ture icon. Lettvin, on the oth­er hand, cuts a dis­tinct­ly con­ser­v­a­tive fig­ure, sport­ing a short-sleeved white shirt, a skin­ny tie and thick-framed glass­es. On first blush, the debate might look like a stereo­typ­i­cal clash between the hip ver­sus the square, but it end­ed up being much more inter­est­ing than that. Lettvin, who proved to be at least as charis­mat­ic as Leary, more than held his own against the man Richard Nixon once called “the most dan­ger­ous man in Amer­i­can.” You can watch the full debate above.

Leary speaks for the first half of the video. For those famil­iar with his rou­tine, lit­tle of what you see will come as a sur­prise. He argues that LSD is a “a way of life and a sacra­ment and a sacra­ment is some­thing that gets you high.” He goes on to cite ground­break­ing fig­ures like Ein­stein, New­ton and William James who strug­gled to under­stand real­i­ty and con­scious­ness. “The real goal of the sci­en­tist is to flip out,” he said to a packed audi­to­ri­um filled with future sci­en­tists. “I don’t know if LSD is good or bad. It’s a gam­ble. It’s a risk. The sacra­ment is always a risk. … What isn’t? But LSD is the best gam­ble in the house.” Aid­ing him with his argu­ment is a psy­che­del­ic pic­ture show fea­tur­ing a steady stream of images includ­ing ocean waves rolling back­ward, chil­dren bounc­ing on tram­po­lines, and a man in a goa­tee eat­ing soup, all set to a sound­track by Ravi Shankar.

lettvin-leary

“Tim, your argu­ment is exceed­ing­ly seduc­tive,” Lettvin con­cedes at the begin­ning of his pre­sen­ta­tion (it begins around the 30:30 mark), which had none of the visu­al raz­za­matazz of Leary’s spiel. “I feel like this man is [in] the hands of the dev­il.”

Lettvin, how­ev­er, proves not to be your stan­dard anti-drug scold. At one point in the debate, he pro­claims, “I can con­ceive of no more immoral thing than has been done by the gov­ern­ment in the whole­sale ban­ning of drugs. … There’s a fun­da­men­tal­ly mon­strous thing about for­bid­ding rather than rea­son­ing peo­ple out.” And that’s exact­ly what Lettvin set out to do — rea­son the audi­ence against tak­ing acid. “The ques­tion is not sci­en­tif­ic but moral,” he says. LSD has the poten­tial to rob tak­ers of their crit­i­cal fac­ul­ties, ren­der­ing them per­ma­nent­ly spaced out. “The price seems a lit­tle steep to pay. You are set­tling for a per­ma­nent sec­ond rate world by the abne­ga­tion of the intel­lect.”

Lettvin’s per­for­mance is all the more impres­sive because he had lit­tle time to pre­pare. The fac­ul­ty mem­ber who was orig­i­nal­ly slat­ed to debate Leary bowed out at the last moment, and orga­niz­ers scram­bled to get some­one, any­one, to face down the famed guru. Lettvin report­ed­ly came straight from the lab to the audi­to­ri­um and he even had to bor­row a tie. Too bad Leary didn’t have a spare Nehru jack­et.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Tim­o­thy Leary Plans a Neu­ro­mancer Video Game, with Art by Kei­th Har­ing, Music by Devo & Cameos by David Byrne

Beyond Tim­o­thy Leary: 2002 Film Revis­its His­to­ry of LSD

Artist Draws Nine Por­traits on LSD Dur­ing 1950s Research Exper­i­ment

Watch The Bicy­cle Trip: An Ani­ma­tion of The World’s First LSD Trip in 1943

Beyond Tim­o­thy Leary: 2002 Film Revis­its His­to­ry of LSD

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new draw­ing of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

Portraits of Vice Presidents with Octopuses on Their Heads — the Ones You’ve Always Wanted To See

24GarrettHobart_ResizeWM2

Last year, after part­ing ways with a pun­ish­ing, thank­less cor­po­rate job but before my wife gave birth to my first child, my friend invit­ed me to par­tic­i­pate in the From Dusk til Drawn fundrais­er at the Muse­um of Con­tem­po­rary Art in San­ta Bar­bara. Basi­cal­ly, it involved draw­ing for 24 straight hours. At that point in my life – i.e. before chil­dren – sleep depri­va­tion was a nov­el­ty. It sound­ed insane. I was in.

I knew I need­ed a sys­tem. The last thing I want­ed was to be strug­gling for ideas of some­thing to draw at four in the morn­ing. So after some debate, I decid­ed to draw por­traits of all 47 vice pres­i­dents of the Unit­ed States. With octo­pus­es on their heads. Why?

02ThomasJefferson_ResizedWM2

It prob­a­bly start­ed with Wal­ter Mon­dale. I was on the couch with my moth­er watch­ing the returns for the 1984 elec­tion. When it became clear that he was not going to become America’s next chief exec­u­tive, my moth­er, who spent her for­ma­tive years in Berke­ley dur­ing the thick of the ‘60s, stood up, pro­claimed “Well, shit!” and stormed upstairs. I was in sev­enth grade. This was the first elec­tion I cared about. Mon­dale had reached for glo­ry and failed spec­tac­u­lar­ly. Start­ing that night, I became fas­ci­nat­ed with those who aspired to his­to­ry but end­ed up a foot­note. So obvi­ous­ly, I became inter­est­ed in vice pres­i­dents.

The Con­sti­tu­tion is sur­pris­ing­ly vague on the veep. Vice Pres­i­dent Charles Dawes — a man who won a Nobel Peace Prize and who wrote a tune that would lat­er become a pop hit, all before becom­ing Calvin Coolidge’s num­ber two guy — summed up the job while talk­ing with sen­a­tor and future VP Alben W. Barkley like this: “I can do only two things here. One of them is to sit up here on this ros­trum [in the Sen­ate] and lis­ten to you birds talk with­out the abil­i­ty to reply. The oth­er is to look at the news­pa­pers every morn­ing to see how the Pres­i­den­t’s health is.”

Though the posi­tion bestows on it all of the author­i­ty and pomp of the U.S. Gov­ern­ment, vice pres­i­dents through­out his­to­ry have strug­gled to find pur­pose in a poor­ly defined role, all the while wait­ing for death. It’s a bit like life itself. A few, through ambi­tion, tal­ent and a lot of luck, ascend­ed to the top job. Most moldered in obscu­ri­ty. No won­der then that John Nance Gar­ner, one of FDR’s three VPs, called the job “not worth a buck­et of warm piss.” I added the octo­pus­es because I thought they were fun­ny. It takes a rare per­son to pull off an air of dig­ni­ty with a cephalo­pod on his head. It seems to fit with the absur­di­ty of the job.

04GeorgeClinton_resizedWM2

Dur­ing From Dusk til Drawn, I was a machine. I cranked out 22 por­traits of vice pres­i­dents in 24 hours. That’s one an hour, exclud­ing a 2am jaunt to get a rice bowl and a hand­ful of bath­room breaks. Over the next year, I drew and redrew them all from John Adams to Joe Biden and then, start­ing this past July, I began post­ing one pic­ture a day on my site Veep­to­pus. I’m up to Hubert H. Humphrey now. Dur­ing this time, I learned a lot about for­mer­ly impor­tant peo­ple who are now almost entire­ly unknown.  Peo­ple like William R. King, who died of tuber­cu­lo­sis three weeks after get­ting sworn in as VP, or John Breck­in­ridge, who fled to Cuba to avoid get­ting arrest­ed for trea­son. You can see the fruits of my crazy scheme here. I hope you enjoy.

Above, in descend­ing order, you can find por­traits of 1) Gar­ret Hobart (1897–1899), the 24th Veep under William McKin­ley; 2) Thomas Jef­fer­son, who bucked the VP trend and made some­thing of him­self; and 3) George Clin­ton who served under Jef­fer­son and Madi­son. Don’t con­fuse him with the guy from Par­lia­ment Funkadel­ic.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Watch a Wit­ty, Grit­ty, Hard­boiled Retelling of the Famous Aaron Burr-Alexan­der Hamil­ton Duel

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.  And you can check out his online Veep­to­pus store here.

The Art of Swimming, 1587: A Manual with Woodcut Illustrations

art of swimming 7

As the late great Robert Shaw remarked in Jaws, “here’s to swim­min’ with bow-legged women.”

Or fail­ing that, an extreme­ly bow-legged man, as fea­tured in Sir Ever­ard Dig­by’s 1587 trea­tise-cum-man­u­al, De Arte Natan­di (The Art of Swim­ming). Hub­ba hub­ba, who needs trunks?

There were no pools at the time. The male bathers pop­u­lat­ing Digby’s 40 plus wood­cut illus­tra­tions are riv­er swim­mers, like Ben Franklin, the inven­tor of swim fins and the only Found­ing Father to be induct­ed (posthu­mous­ly) into the Inter­na­tion­al Swim­ming Hall of Fame.

art of swimming 6

As Franklin would two cen­turies lat­er, Dig­by sought to bring both water safe­ty and prop­er form to the mass­es. Accord­ing to the BBC’s His­to­ry Mag­a­zine, the Cam­bridge Don’s goal was “to turn swim­ming from a dis­re­gard­ed skill of bargees and boat­men into an accom­plish­ment for gen­tle­men, to make them more like the Romans.”

To get clos­er to his goal, Dig­by breaks it down as deft­ly as an online swim instruc­tor in the era of youtube. When not deliv­er­ing the how to’s on back stroke, side stroke, and dog­gy pad­dle, he’s advis­ing absolute begin­ners on how to enter the water and steer clear of ani­mal-befouled holes, and help­ing more sea­soned stu­dents embell­ish their game with nifty tricks, (danc­ing, toe­nail cut­ting).

art of swimming 5

Pro­long the lazy days of sum­mer by brows­ing through more images from De Arte Natan­di at the Pub­lic Domain Review. Or see the text itself here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Won­der­ful­ly Weird & Inge­nious Medieval Books

Wear­able Books: In Medieval Times, They Took Old Man­u­scripts & Turned Them into Clothes

Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy Illus­trat­ed in a Remark­able Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­script (c. 1450)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine, and extreme­ly enthu­si­as­tic swim­mer. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Yale Launches an Archive of 170,000 Photographs Documenting the Great Depression

dorothea langeDur­ing the Great Depres­sion, The Farm Secu­ri­ty Administration—Office of War Infor­ma­tion (FSA-OWI) hired pho­tog­ra­phers to trav­el across Amer­i­ca to doc­u­ment the pover­ty that gripped the nation, hop­ing to build sup­port for New Deal pro­grams being cham­pi­oned by F.D.R.‘s admin­is­tra­tion.

Leg­endary pho­tog­ra­phers like Dorothea Lange, Walk­er Evans, and Arthur Roth­stein took part in what amount­ed to the largest pho­tog­ra­phy project ever spon­sored by the fed­er­al gov­ern­ment. All told, 170,000 pho­tographs were tak­en, then cat­a­logued back in Wash­ing­ton DC. The Library of Con­gress became their even­tu­al rest­ing place.

walker evans

We first men­tioned this his­toric project back in 2012, when the New York Pub­lic Library put a rel­a­tive­ly small sam­pling of these images online. But today we have big­ger news.

Yale Uni­ver­si­ty has launched Pho­togram­mar, a sophis­ti­cat­ed web-based plat­form for orga­niz­ing, search­ing, and visu­al­iz­ing these 170,000 his­toric pho­tographs.

arthur rothstein

The Pho­togram­mar plat­form gives you the abil­i­ty to search through the images by pho­tog­ra­ph­er. Do a search for Dorothea Lange’s pho­tographs, and you get over 3200 images, includ­ing the now icon­ic pho­to­graph at the bot­tom of this post.

Pho­togram­mar also offers a handy inter­ac­tive map that lets you gath­er geo­graph­i­cal infor­ma­tion about 90,000 pho­tographs in the col­lec­tion.

And then there’s a sec­tion called Pho­togram­mar Labs where inno­v­a­tive visu­al­iza­tion tech­niques and data exper­i­ments will grad­u­al­ly shed new light on the image archive.

Accord­ing to Yale, the Pho­togram­mar project was fund­ed by a grant from the Nation­al Endow­ment for the Human­i­ties (NEH). Direct­ed by Lau­ra Wexler, the project was under­tak­en by Yale’’s Pub­lic Human­i­ties Pro­gram and its Pho­to­graph­ic Mem­o­ry Work­shop. You can learn more about the gen­e­sis of the project and its tech­ni­cal chal­lenges here.

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Top image: A migrant agri­cul­tur­al work­er in Marysville migrant camp, try­ing to fig­ure out his year’s earn­ings. Tak­en in Cal­i­for­nia in 1935 by Dorothea Lange.

Sec­ond image: Allie Mae Bur­roughs, wife of cot­ton share­crop­per. Pho­to tak­en in Hale Coun­ty, Alaba­ma in 1935 by Walk­er Evans.

Third image: Wife and chil­dren of share­crop­per in Wash­ing­ton Coun­ty, Arkansas. By Arthur Roth­stein. 1935.

Fourth image: Wife of Negro share­crop­per, Lee Coun­ty, Mis­sis­sip­pi. Again tak­en by Arthur Roth­stein in 1935.

Bot­tom image: Des­ti­tute pea pick­ers in Cal­i­for­nia. Moth­er of sev­en chil­dren. Age thir­ty-two. Tak­en by Dorothea Lange in Nipo­mo, Cal­i­for­nia, 1936.

lange bottom

h/t @pbkauf

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Found: Lost Great Depres­sion Pho­tos Cap­tur­ing Hard Times on Farms, and in Town

Down­load for Free 2.6 Mil­lion Images from Books Pub­lished Over Last 500 Years on Flickr

The Get­ty Adds Anoth­er 77,000 Images to its Open Con­tent Archive

The Fin­land Wartime Pho­to Archive: 160,000 Images From World War II Now Online

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Foodie Alert: New York Public Library Presents an Archive of 17,000 Restaurant Menus (1851–2008)

Met Hotel

To be a New York­er is to be a gourmand—of food carts, local din­ers, super­mar­kets, out­er bor­ough mer­ca­dos, what­ev­er lat­est upscale restau­rant sur­faces in a giv­en sea­son.… It is to be as like­ly to have a menu in hand as a news­pa­per, er… smart­phone…, and it is to notice the design of said menus. Well, some of us have done that. Often the added atten­tion goes unre­ward­ed, but then some­times it does. Now you, dear read­er, can expe­ri­ence well over one-hun­dred years of star­ing at menus, thanks to the New York Pub­lic Library’s enor­mous dig­i­tized col­lec­tion. Fan­cy a time warp through din­ing halls abroad? You’ll not only find sev­er­al hun­dred New York restau­rants rep­re­sent­ed here, but hun­dreds more from all over the world. With a col­lec­tion of 17,000 menus and count­ing, a per­son could eas­i­ly get lost.

You may notice I used the word “gour­mand,” and not “food­ie” above. While it might be a gross anachro­nism to call some­one a “food­ie” in 1859, the year the menu for the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Hotel (above) was print­ed, it might also import a cos­mopoli­tan con­cept of din­ing that didn’t seem to exist, at least at this estab­lish­ment. More than any­thing, the menu resem­bles the var­i­ous descrip­tions of pub food that pop­u­late Joyce’s Ulysses. Though much of it was deli­cious, I’m sure, for heavy eaters of meat, eggs, pota­toes, and bread, you won’t find a veg­etable so much as men­tioned in pass­ing. The fare does include such hearty sta­ples as “Hashed Fish,” “Stale Bread,” and “Break­fast Wine.” The design mar­ries flow­ery Vic­to­ri­an ele­ments with the kind of font found in Old West type­sets.

Maison Prunier Cover

1939 was a good year for menus, at least in Europe. While New York insti­tu­tions like the Wal­dorf Asto­ria prac­ticed cer­tain design aus­ter­i­ties, the Mai­son Prunier, with loca­tions in Paris and Lon­don, spared no expense in the print­ing of their full-col­or fish­er­mans’ slice of life paint­ing on the menu cov­er above and the ele­gant typog­ra­phy of its exten­sive con­tents below. A ver­sion was print­ed in English—though The New York Pub­lic Library (NYPL) doesn’t seem to have a copy of it dig­i­tized. One Eng­lish phrase stands out at the bot­tom, how­ev­er: the trans­la­tion of “Tout Ce Qui Vient De La Mer–Everything From the Sea.” Oth­er menus for this restau­rant show the same kind of care­ful atten­tion to design. Click­ing on the pages of many of the NYPL menus—like this one from a 1938 Mai­son Prunier menu—brings up an inter­ac­tive fea­ture that links each dish to close-up views.

Maison Prunier Page 1

In a post on the NYPL menu col­lec­tion, Buz­zfeed specif­i­cal­ly com­pares New York menus of today with those of 100 years ago, not­ing that prices quot­ed sig­ni­fy cents, not dol­lars. A 1914 Del­moni­co “Rib of Roast” would run you .75 cents, for exam­ple, while a 2014 rib eye there sells for 58 big ones. Of course then, as now, many restau­rants con­sid­ered it gauche to print prices at all. See, for exam­ple, the din­ner menu at New Orleans’ St. Charles Hotel from 1908 below. We may have an all-inclu­sive feast here since this comes from a New Years Eve bill, which also includes a “Musi­cal Pro­gram” in two parts and a list of local “Amuse­ments” at such places as Blaney’s Lyric The­atre, Tulane, Dauphine, “French Orera” (sic), and the 2:00 pm races at City Park. Mati­nees and 8 o’clock shows every day except Sun­day.

St Charles Hotel

The six­ties gave us an explo­sion of menus that par­al­lel in many cas­es the break­out designs of mag­a­zine and album cov­ers. See two stand­outs below. The North Ger­man Lloyd, just below, went with a funky chil­dren’s book-cov­er illus­tra­tion for its 1969 menu cov­er, though its inte­ri­or main­tains a min­i­mal­ist clar­i­ty. Below it, see the strik­ing first page of a menu for John­ny Garneau’s Gold­en Spike from that same year. The cov­er boasts a nos­tal­gic head­line sto­ry for Promon­to­ry News: “Gold­en Spike is Dri­ven: The last rail is laid! East meets West in Utah!” Put it on the cov­er of a  Band or CSNY album and no one bats an eye.

North German Lloyd

Golden Spike

See many, many, many more menus at the NYPL site. With the steady growth of food schol­ar­ship, this col­lec­tion is cer­tain­ly a boon to researchers, as well as curi­ous gour­mands, food­ies, and rabid din­ers of all stripes.

via Buz­zfeed

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Pris­on­ers Ate at Alca­traz in 1946: A Vin­tage Prison Menu

Howard Johnson’s Presents a Children’s Menu Fea­tur­ing Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Exten­sive Archive of Avant-Garde & Mod­ernist Mag­a­zines (1890–1939) Now Avail­able Online

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Wonderfully Weird & Ingenious Medieval Books

Medieval Books

Lei­den Uni­ver­si­ty book his­to­ri­an Erik Kwakkel describes his tum­blr site as fol­lows: “I post images from medieval books.” In the words of Samuel L. Jack­son on the immor­tal Snakes on a Plane, you either want to see that, or you don’t. Pre­sum­ing you do (and giv­en your pre­sum­able sta­tus as an Open Cul­ture read­er, it strikes me as a safe bet) know that Kwakkel does­n’t main­tain just any old images of medieval books; his posts tend to high­light the askew, the obscure, and the inno­v­a­tive, fur­ther demon­strat­ing that we need not find the “dark ages” dull. At the top of the post, you can see one pho­to of the sev­er­al he post­ed of the biggest books in the world, in this case the “famous Klencke Atlas” from the 16th cen­tu­ry. “While they are rare, such large spec­i­mens,” writes Kwakkel, “they do rep­re­sent a tra­di­tion. Choir books, for exam­ple, need­ed to be big because they were used by a half cir­cle of singers gath­ered around it in a church set­ting. If you are impressed with the size of these objects, just imag­ine turn­ing their pages!”

Siamese Books

Above, we have an exam­ple of what Kwakkel calls “Siamese twins,” two books bound as one using an odd bind­ing “called ‘dos-à-dos’ (back to back), a type almost exclu­sive­ly pro­duced in the 16th and 17th cen­turies.” You could read one text one way, then turn the thing over and read a whole oth­er text the oth­er way. “You will often find two com­ple­men­tary devo­tion­al works in them, such as a prayer­book and a Psalter, or the Bible’s Old and New Tes­ta­ment. Read­ing the one text you can flip the ‘book’ to con­sult the oth­er” — no doubt a handy item, giv­en the reli­gious pri­or­i­ties of the aver­age read­er in the Europe of that era. The ani­mat­ed image below high­lights a relat­ed and equal­ly unusu­al bind­ing effort, a dos-à-dos from the late 16th cen­tu­ry con­tain­ing “not two but six books, all neat­ly hid­den inside a sin­gle bind­ing (see this motion­less pic to admire it). They are all devo­tion­al texts print­ed in Ger­many dur­ing the 1550s and 1570s (includ­ing Mar­tin Luther, Der kleine Cat­e­chis­mus) and each one is closed with its own tiny clasp.”

dos a dos

If this kind of high­ly vin­tage, labor-inten­sive book­mak­ing gets your blood flow­ing, make sure to see see also Traité des couleurs ser­vant à la pein­ture à l’eau, the 700-page 17th-cen­tu­ry guide to col­ors we fea­tured in July, and which Kwakkel cov­ered on his blog back in April: “Because the man­u­al is writ­ten by hand and there­fore lit­er­al­ly one of a kind, it did not get the ‘reach’ among painters — or atten­tion among mod­ern art his­to­ri­ans — it deserves.” Just one more rea­son to appre­ci­ate the inter­net, even if, as a medi­um, you far pre­fer the medieval book.

Keep tabs on Kwakkel’s tum­blr site for more unusu­al finds, and don’t miss his oth­er blog, Medieval Frag­ments, where he and oth­er schol­ars delve more deeply into the won­der­ful world of medieval books.

Medieval Color

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wear­able Books: In Medieval Times, They Took Old Man­u­scripts & Turned Them into Clothes

Dutch Book From 1692 Doc­u­ments Every Col­or Under the Sun: A Pre-Pan­tone Guide to Col­ors

Medieval Cats Behav­ing Bad­ly: Kit­ties That Left Paw Prints … and Peed … on 15th Cen­tu­ry Man­u­scripts

Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy Illus­trat­ed in a Remark­able Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­script (c. 1450)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Five Best North Korean Movies: Watch Them Free Online

Accord­ing to offi­cial pro­pa­gan­da, Kim Jong-Il was a remark­ably impres­sive indi­vid­ual. He learned to walk when he was just three weeks old; he wrote 1,500 books while at uni­ver­si­ty; and, dur­ing his first and only game of golf, he scored 11 holes in one. Yet for some rea­son becom­ing the world’s first North Kore­an pro­fes­sion­al golf play­er didn’t seem to inter­est Kim. He want­ed to make movies. So, in 1978, while his father Kim Il-Sung was still the country’s supreme leader, Kim set out to mod­ern­ize the film indus­try of the Demo­c­ra­t­ic People’s Repub­lic of Korea.

“The North’s film­mak­ers are just doing per­func­to­ry work,” Kim said to South Kore­an film direc­tor Shin Sang-ok. “They don’t have any new ideas…their works have the same expres­sions, redun­dan­cies, the same old plots. All our movies are filled with cry­ing and sob­bing. I did­n’t order them to por­tray that kind of thing.”

the-flower-girl.480.270.s

Of course, Kim’s bold plan to jump­start the indus­try was to kid­nap Shin and his wife, both celebri­ties in South Korea. He was abduct­ed in Hong Kong and, when he had the temer­i­ty to try to escape, he end­ed up spend­ing four years toil­ing in prison, sub­sist­ing on lit­tle more than grass and a lit­tle rice. Even­tu­al­ly, Shin was approached by Kim and giv­en an offer he dare not refuse: make movies in North Korea.

Like the films cranked out in Chi­na dur­ing the height of the Cul­tur­al Rev­o­lu­tion, North Kore­an movies are large­ly pro­pa­gan­da deliv­ery sys­tems designed exclu­sive­ly for a domes­tic audi­ence. After Shin’s kid­nap­ping, DPRK movies start­ed to get just a bit less didac­tic. Simon Fowler, who writes prob­a­bly the only Eng­lish-lan­guage blog on North Kore­an cin­e­ma, just wrote an arti­cle for The Guardian where he select­ed the best films to come out of the Her­mit king­dom. You can watch a few of these movies here and find the oth­ers at The Guardian. They might be goofy, maudlin and ham-fist­ed, but for movie mavens and afi­ciona­dos of Com­mu­nist kitsch, they are fas­ci­nat­ing.

Per­haps the most impor­tant North Kore­an movie ever is The Flower Girl (1972). Watch it above. Set dur­ing Japan’s colo­nial occu­pa­tion of Korea, the film fol­lows a young woman who endures one injus­tice after anoth­er at the hands of the Japan­ese before Kim Il-Sung’s army march­es into her vil­lage and saves the day. The movie set the tem­plate for many of the movies to come after­wards. As Fowler writes, “the impor­tance of The Flower Girl with­in the DPRK can­not be over­es­ti­mat­ed. The star, Hong Yong-hee, adorns the one won bank note in North Korea, and is revered as a nation­al hero. Although not always an easy watch, those want­i­ng to learn more about the aver­age North Kore­ans’ sen­si­bil­i­ties could do far worse than to watch this pic­turesque but trag­ic film.”

Hong Kil Dong (1986) is clear­ly one of the movies Shin Sang-ok influ­enced; it fore­ground­ed enter­tain­ment over ide­ol­o­gy, a rar­i­ty at that point in the coun­try’s film his­to­ry. The movie is about a char­ac­ter from Kore­an lit­er­a­ture who, like Robin Hood, not only robs from the rich and gives to the poor but knows how to deliv­er a beat­down. Hong plays out like a par­tic­u­lar­ly low-bud­get Shaw Broth­ers kung fu spec­ta­cle with plen­ty of fly­ing kicks, sword play and wire work.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCKSR0JArUQ#t=5000

And final­ly, there’s Pul­gasari (1985), North Korea’s attempt at mak­ing a kai­ju movie. Set in feu­dal times, the film is about a stat­ue that comes to life, grows to mon­strous pro­por­tions and, unable to sate its unquench­able thirst for met­al, starts to smash things. Shin man­aged to get tech­ni­cal help for the movie from Toho, the same Japan­ese stu­dio that cranked all those Godzil­la movies. In fact, they even got vet­er­an kai­ju actor, Ken­pachi­ro Sat­suma, to don a rub­ber suit for this movie. Years lat­er, Pul­gasari was released in Japan about the same time as Roland Emmerich’s god awful Hol­ly­wood remake of Godzil­la (not to be con­fused with Gareth Edward’s god awful Hol­ly­wood remake from ear­li­er this year). Sat­suma pub­li­cal­ly stat­ed what a lot of Japan­ese pri­vate­ly thought – Pul­gasari is bet­ter than Emmerich’s big-bud­get dud.

Not long after Shin com­plet­ed Pul­gasari, he and his wife man­aged to escape in Vien­na thanks to the help of the CIA and a host of oth­er unlike­ly par­ties.  Kim Jong-Il might have had super human abil­i­ties, but tal­ent reten­tion did not seem to be one of them.

You can watch the three films list­ed above, plus Marathon Run­ner and Cen­tre For­ward over at  The Guardian.

More free films can be found in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

via Coudal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Kim Jong-il’s Godzil­la Movie & His Free Writ­ings on Film The­o­ry

North Korea’s Cin­e­ma of Dreams

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrowAnd check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new draw­ing of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly. 

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